


if you want to get down

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Cocaine, Drunk Sex, Elvis impersonators, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, [frat boy voice] vape pens, author needs jesus, author still needs jesus, being too stupid to get a bottle of lube open, edibles, ew gross feelings, freaky butt plugs, getting kicked out of sex shops, if you wanted a dress code you should have instituted one, poppers, spirited debates on why it's okay to use one drug but not another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: And sure, Evgeny could do lines off a hard surface like a normal person would do them, or he could do them like a fucking rock star - or a highly paid hockey player who just won the Stanley Cup.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sure other people have better, healthier coping mechanisms than this, but i never claimed to be a good person. from the bottom of my heart i'm sorry and i deserve all of the judgement i get for having.... done this. i am sorry to arizona, phil, and marcus. i'm still mad at you, kuzya.
> 
> dubious thanks go to those who encouraged this; you know who you are. every shitty human has their enablers. we know what we did. no betas were harmed or used in the making of this monstrosity. somewhere there's a second half of this where they DO go to vegas and there IS a line done off a dick, just because someone literally messaged me and said "it is possible to do a line off a dick" and like. here we all are, aren't we.

Arizona is a lot of things. A little boring to live in. Too warm year round. (Twenty degrees in January is too many degrees for Evgeny’s taste, but it is what it is.)

Mostly, Arizona is unexpected. He never expected to play there. He never expected to even leave Washington, much less move out west and sign with the Coyotes. He didn’t expect to be on a team with Phil Kessel ever. He didn’t expect to be on a team with Marcus again.

Winning a Cup there makes it less weird.

Glendale is not, like, great for partying, but they do their damnedest. And winning at home, on home ice, is a lot different than when the Caps won it in Vegas. The partying in Vegas was better, for starters. The only time Evgeny slept those first few days was on the plane home. They went hard.

It’s not the Evgeny is hung over so much as he’s definitely still drunk. The sheets of the bed are tangled and the blanket is on the floor and Evgeny’s naked, still caked with dust and sweat and sticky dried drinks from the parade and the ensuing party, his thighs still a little slick with lube and come dried on his stomach from the afterparty.

He lays there for a few moments, scratching absently at his skin to flake the come off. He needs to get up, shower and find his phone, figure out what events they have to get to today. And he will, probably, as soon as he works up the energy.

In the meantime, Marcus is sprawled on his stomach on the bed next to Evgeny, his feet on the pillow near Evgeny’s face. Evgeny has no idea how they ended up this way, but considering how drunk they were last night when they stumbled into bed, he wouldn’t be surprised if Marcus had gotten up at some point and just decided this was more comfortable.

Evgeny reaches out one hand and strokes his fingertips along the arch of Marcus’s foot. He snickers to himself, and nothing happens at first. Until Marcus almost kicks him in the face, and Evgeny yelps and jerks away and almost falls out of bed.

Marcus says something that Evgeny is sure is some permutation of “fuck off,” and stuffs his foot under a pillow like that’s going to protect it from Evgeny. Also his other bare foot is still out, so it’s not like Evgeny couldn’t just switch to the other one if he wanted to keep irritating Marcus. Then he goes still again, and a soft snore indicates that he’s fallen back asleep.

With a sigh, Evgeny pushes himself up and scratches his fingers over his beard, then rolls off the bed and goes into the bathroom. On the way, he rummages through their discarded clothes, damp and reeking of sweat and beer to find his phone. It’s after noon, and the group chat is talking about where they’re going to get dinner, where they’re going to take the Cup to party.

He has a piss and goes back to the bedroom, opening the nightstand drawer to rummage through his stash before sitting back down on the bed. Marcus still hasn’t moved, and he reaches out and runs his hands over Marcus’s pale, bare skin, cool to the touch under the air conditioning of Evgeny’s bedroom.

“You do the work,” Marcus murmurs, his face still mostly pressed into the mattress. Evgeny laughs at that.

“You want any of this?” Evgeny asks. He holds up a tiny bag of white powder, and Marcus turns his head and looks up at Evgeny, squinting through hair that’s grown too long during the Cup run to see what Evgeny’s asking.

“No,” Marcus says. “I don’t like it.” He buries his face back into the sheets.

And sure, Evgeny could do lines off a hard surface like a normal person would do them, or he could do them like a fucking rock star - or a highly paid hockey player who just won the Stanley Cup.

“Will you hold still for me?” Evgeny asks. Marcus makes a noise to the affirmative, and Evgeny sets to work. It’s not like he expects that Marcus would move any time soon, but he also doesn’t want to take the chance that anything goes to waste as he sets up a line across Marcus’s lower back.

“Feels weird,” Marcus tells him, turning his head again, just enough that his voice is understandable.

“Feels great,” Evgeny says, and leans in to snort the powder. Once it’s gone, he sits up, sniffs, wipes his nose. “Do you think I could do that off your dick?”

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just stares at him with one eye, looking up at Evgeny through his hair.

Evgeny leans back down and swipes his tongue across Marcus’s skin, lapping up the residue from the cocaine and then shifting lower. He pushes the cheeks of Marcus’s ass apart with his hands before dipping his face between, pressing his tongue flat against Marcus’s hole.

He likes the reaction he gets, the sharp exhale of breath and the sound of Marcus’s voice when he curses against the mattress. He swirls his tongue around, listening to the sound of Marcus’s breathing, the way it shakes when Evgeny pushes his tongue in, the way he gasps when Evgeny gets a little more aggressive and pushes his fingers in using only his spit.

Marcus is never going to get off like this, not without one of them touching his dick, but Evgeny’s content to lay there and work at him until Marcus is thrusting his hips against the mattress, twisting his fingers in the sheets and breathing hard.

Evgeny pulls away and sits up, rifling through the sheets to find the bottle of lube where it was discarded the night before. He has to hunt for it, because they’re idiots who let it get kicked to the floor when they were fucking in a drunken haze the night before, and Evgeny defintiely doesn’t thank either of them from the night before for it. Marcus is wet from his mouth and he takes Evgeny’s fingers easily, arching his back up to press back against Evgeny’s fingers.

“You want me,” Evgeny says.

“I told you to do the work,” Marcus tells him, breathless, untangling one fist from the sheets to push his hair out of his face.

Evgeny laughs and tugs at Marcus’s hips, pulling him up onto his knees, then leans forward, pressing his hips flush against Marcus’s ass. He doesn’t push in yet, just lines his cock up with the crack of Marcus’s ass, teasing him. He reaches his cleaner hand out and grabs a handful of Marcus’s hair.

“Fuck,” Marcus says. Evgeny doesn’t normally pull on Marcus’s hair, unless Marcus is giving some really spectacular head, but his hair is so long now that Evgeny can’t resist it.

Pushing in, Marcus isn’t quite as stretched open as either of them might like, but he doesn’t protest it, and he doesn’t resist or pull away. He begs for more, in fact. Evgeny tugs on his hair, pulling his face up out of the sheets. He wraps his other hand around Marcus’s dick, the remnants of the lube making the slide easy.

He comes hot and hard with a curse, spilling over Evgeny’s fingers. Evgeny doesn’t stop, keeps fucking him, until Marcus is begging him. Begging him to stop, and Evgeny does, pulling out and letting go of Marcus’s hair, letting Marcus go limp underneath him as he finishes himself off with his hand, splattering come across Marcus’s ass.

“Gross,” Marcus murmurs into the sheets.

Evgeny sprawls out on the bed, his head back on the pillows and Marcus’s feet still next to his head.

“You wanna get dinner later?” Evgeny asks. Marcus makes a non-committal noise. He’s not asleep again, not yet.

“And then more partying,” Marcus says.

“Vegas is a five hour drive,” Evgeny suggests.

“We’d have to sober up first,” Marcus says. “What about a flight?”

“If we go to Vegas will you let me snort coke off your dick?” Evgeny asks. Marcus snort-laughs at that.

“Whatever,” he says, pushing himself up. His hair is a disaster, sticking up where it looks like Evgeny’s accidentally gotten lube in it. “I’m getting in the shower.”

“Good,” Evgeny says. “I got lube in your hair.”

“What the fuck?” Marcus asks, reaching up to touch it. “Gross.”

Evgeny laughs and reaches out for his phone on the nightstand as Marcus disappears into the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viva Las Vegas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after i posted the first part of this someone dm'ed me and was like btw, you can totally do coke off a dick and so here we all are, aren't we? so this is for me, and for maj, and for those of you who wanted it, because some people apparently did.
> 
> thanks to jarka for the beta. stay in school, don't do drugs, bring me edibles.

They don’t end up flying to Vegas.

It’s not that they don’t _go_ to Vegas, they just don’t fly there. At some point between dinner and the party and the afterparty, Evgeny has decided that he’ll drive them. They can get there by breakfast if they leave after the party wraps up. Marcus, who is only about 25 percent less drunk and definitely not interested in sitting in a car for five or six hours, would rather get half a night’s sleep and take an afternoon flight in.

Evgeny sucks him off in the bathroom, even though someone is banging on the door and Marcus is yelling at them to fuck off, and Evgeny has to spend a solid five minutes scrubbing come out of his beard after while he listens to Phil being drunk and shrill at Marcus outside the bathroom door.

Throwing open the door, Evgeny swans into the hallway and plants a kiss right on Phil’s mouth, then throws his arm around Marcus, who is giggling uncontrollably, and leads him away, leaving Phil standing bewildered behind them in the hallway.

They close the bar down at two, and Evgeny is sober-ish, and Marcus is drunk enough that he just says “fine,” and starts throwing clothes into a bag when Evgeny presses the Vegas idea again after they’re home. Evgeny promises he’ll drive and Marcus can sleep in the car, and that’s what they do.

It’s still dark and Marcus falls asleep maybe fifteen minutes into the drive, the seat kicked back and his snapback tossed on the back seat of Evgeny’s SUV. He even sleeps through Evgeny turning up the radio and rapping along with it. It’s all highway through the desert in the dark, and Evgeny rests his hand on Marcus’s thigh as he sleeps.

They’re a couple of hours into the drive and it’s still pitch dark when Evgeny pulls into a gas station. Marcus wakes up at some point while Evgeny is pumping gas, and he leans against the roof of the car and watches Marcus stretch in the passenger seat, arms above his head until his t-shirt rides up above the soft lounge pants he’d put on before they’d left the house.

Evgeny smiles at him, and he smiles back, sleepy.

“Do you want anything?” Evgeny asks. “From inside?”

“Water,” Marcus says.

When Evgeny comes back, Marcus is sitting up, more or less awake, and he chugs the entire bottle of water as soon as Evgeny hands it over.

“Do you want this one too?” Evgeny asks.

“If you don’t, you know, need it,” Marcus says. He’s just trying not to be hung over. Evgeny can respect that. He crunches up the empty bottle and tosses it onto the floor near his feet, and takes the one Evgeny offers him.

He dozes back off almost immediately, leaving Evgeny alone with the music. They’re in Nevada and the sky is starting to lighten when Marcus wakes up again.

“Can you pull in somewhere?” he asks, and Evgeny starts to ask if he’s okay before he remembers that Marcus chugged most of two huge bottles of water on top of a night of drinking. There’s a rest area at the side of the highway, nearly deserted at this hour of the morning. They can dip in and dip out and it’ll be quick.

Once they’re parked, Evgeny leans across the console and kisses Marcus. He’s been thinking about it since the gas station, about Marcus in the seat next to him all sleepy-pliant and the bare strip of skin when he stretched, the movement of his throat as he swallowed. Evgeny’s been half hard since the gas station, and now he pulls Marcus in against him, pushing his tongue into Marcus’s mouth.

Marcus leans into it at first, then pulls away.

“Hold that thought,” he says, then pops the door open and half-jogs toward the restrooms. Evgeny sits there for a moment, takes a deep breath, then gets out of the SUV, walking around to the back to rummage through his bag.

“Hey,” Evgeny says when Marcus comes to stand next to him, trying to figure out what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Marcus says.

Evgeny reaches out and grabs Marcus by the hips, pulling Marcus in close until their hips are pressed flush. Evgeny knows it’s out of instinct that Marcus pulls his face away to look to make sure no one can see them, even as Evgeny is kissing him. Once he’s satisfied, he drapes his arms around Evgeny’s shoulders.

“Get in the back seat,” Evgeny tells him. Marcus freezes. Evgeny licks his lips.

Marcus takes a deep breath and climbs up into the back seat. Evgeny deliberately parked away from the buildings, half a plan in his mind if he could convince Marcus. That’s why he was digging through his bag. He needed the lube.

Fucking in the back seat of a car is awkward, even if it is an SUV and there’s quite a bit of space. Evgeny has to get his pants down far enough for Marcus to fuck him, and public place be damned, he pushes them down his hips and kicks them into the floorboard of the back seat before straddling Marcus’s lap.

“This is how we’re gonna get arrested,” Marcus tells him, and Evgeny laughs and kisses him hard.

“Will you just fuck me? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for hours,” Evgeny tells him.

“I mean you’re kind of - “ Marcus says, fumbling the bottle of lube Evgeny hands him. “You’re kind of doing all the work again.”

“Just - “ Evgeny says, and grinds his hips down against Marcus’s.

Evgeny is definitely going to have to get his car detailed, and fully not explain anything to anyone about why there’s lube all over the back seat (“An incident with some oil,” he’ll say) after the bottle slips out of Marcus’s hand.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he says furiously while Marcus is laughing and trying to wipe the seat off. “You’re ruining my car and - “ He breaks off and curses in Russian when Marcus pushes two fingers in with no teasing and no preamble and raises an eyebrow at him just before Evgeny’s eyes roll back in his head.

They definitely don’t do enough prep, because they’re in a hurry and the longer it takes the higher the probability they get caught - which is thrilling in itself, the potential to get caught - but it also means that the burn and the drag when Marcus pushes in makes Evgeny’s breath catch in his throat as he eases himself down to sit on Marcus’s thighs.

“You okay?” Marcus asks him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Evgeny says. “Just give me a second.”

“You’re so fucking,” Marcus says, and tips his head, pressing his mouth against Evgeny’s. “Fucking _tight_.”

“I hate when you say that to me,” Evgeny says, and Marcus laughs, and Evgeny moves his hips.

They fuck hard and fast, sweaty and messy. Evgeny gets his knee in the lube smeared on the back seat and almost falls, and ends up balancing himself with one hand on the roof and one hand fisted in Marcus’s hair. Come smears across both of their t-shirts, and they’re going to have to change, but with Evgeny’s pants off and Marcus’s pulled down, maybe their pants will be spared.

Evgeny stays sitting on Marcus’s cock, his head lowered down, breathing hard, Marcus’s head leaned back against the seat.

“I hate to disturb you,” Marcus says, his fingers stroking across Evgeny’s lower back. “But someone did just pull into the parking lot.”

“Fuck,” Evgeny says, and tries to not look too much like he’s rummaging around for his pants and pulling them on. Both of their shirts are wrecked, and since it takes Marcus less time to look presentable, he tries to clean the lube off the seat with one of their messy t-shirts before going around to the trunk to find them clean ones.

Once they’re both settled in the car again, ready to drive the rest of the way to Vegas, Marcus leans over and kisses Evgeny softly.

“That’s the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Marcus tells him. Evgeny grins at him.

“Even more stupid than that time in Stockholm?” Evgeny asks.

“Oh, no,” Marcus says. “Nothing’s more stupid than that.”

They make out in the shower after they check in to the hotel. Pressed together under the spray, Evgeny scrubs soap through Marcus’s hair while Marcus slides soap-slick hands down Evgeny’s skin. It’s a fruitless endeavor, and they end up soaking the sheets as they stumble through the room and Evgeny pins Marcus to the bed.

Evgeny finally falls asleep curled up around Marcus and it’s the first sleep he’s had in nearly a week that’s more than just three or four hours. He’s been running on drugs and alcohol and adrenaline and endorphins for days, and the crash hits him hard. When he finally wakes up, it’s already dark outside and Marcus is sitting up against the headboard, flicking through his phone in the dark, the lights of Las Vegas bright against the sheer curtains over the window.

“Hey,” he says, stretching and pushing himself up to rest on the pillow next to Marcus’s hips, looping his arms around Marcus and resting his head against Marcus’s thigh. Marcus drops a hand down to scratch his fingers through Evgeny’s hair, and Evgeny closes his eyes again.

“I’m glad you finally woke up,” Marcus says. “I thought I was going to have to get dinner without you.”

“I could eat,” Evgeny says, but doesn’t open his eyes or make a move to get out of bed. Now that he’s crashed, he’s really crashed, and he wants to go back to sleep. But he is hungry.

“I already showered, so as soon as you clean up we can go,” Marcus says. Evgeny thinks this is stupid, because they were literally both in the shower before they got into bed. Then he remembers that they also fucked, so maybe he’s not as clean as he would want to be to go to dinner.

“Mm,” he says, instead, and doesn’t get out of bed.

“I want to go to some stupid fancy place,” Marcus says. He holds up his phone. “Really fucking stupid. Like this one where you buy oysters and you also get a pearl necklace”

“I’ll give you a pearl necklace,” Evgeny says, and Marcus pulls Evgeny’s hair rather harder than he necessarily likes.

“Maybe later,” he says.

“Did you bring a suit?” Evgeny asks. “Don’t these places have dress codes?”

“Maybe!” Marcus says. “I’ll find one that doesn’t require sport coats.”

“Maybe we can just… not speak English,” Evgeny suggests.

“Oh sure,” Marcus says. “You spend the whole night speaking Russian at me, and I’ll spend the whole night speaking Swedish at you, and - “

“Do you have a better idea?” Evgeny interrupts.

“We could go shopping,” Marcus says.

“Ugh,” Evgeny says, turning his face into Marcus’s thigh. He turns back so he can speak. “We both know if we go out and try to buy either of us something off a rack it’s not going to fit and you’re gonna get all pissed off about it because you won’t look good in it because your ass and shoulders won’t look good and then you’ll sulk all night and won’t have a good time.”

Marcus opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it back shut.

“You know I’m right,” Evgeny says. “We might as well just pretend we don’t understand what a dress code is.”

“Is it possible to love someone so much and still hate them from the depths of your soul,” Marcus asks him.

Evgeny grins and pushes himself up. “You don’t. You only love me.”

On his hands and knees, he leans over and kisses Marcus, bumping Marcus’s head back against the headboard. Marcus plants a hand on Evgeny’s chest and pushes.

“Go take a fucking shower,” he tells him.

They end up at a fancy restaurant where ‘no dress code is required, but dress tends to be more formal,’ sitting among men in suits and ties and women in cocktail dresses, wearing jeans and button down shirts. They get a few looks, a few glares, and some whispers, but they make their way through the prix fixe menu and kill two bottles of wine.

It’s a lot of wine, and they’re both buzzed, and Marcus keeps bumping his knee against Evgeny where they’re sitting next to each other at the bar. They don’t really kiss in public a lot, and especially not in a very exclusive and high end restaurant, but Evgeny thinks about it when Marcus rests a hand on his thigh and squeezes gently.

“Let’s go do something really stupid,” Evgeny says.

“Stupider than driving to Las Vegas?” Marcus asks. He drops his voice. “Stupider than what we did on the way here?”

“Stockholm stupid,” Evgeny says.

“No,” Marcus says.

“Nightclub?” Evgeny asks. Marcus makes a face. “Come on.”

Marcus wrinkles up his nose.

“We’ll go to a dispensary first,” Evgeny says.

“Fine,” Marcus says. “But you’re also getting me edibles because we can’t smoke in the room.”

“I’m not going to smoke at all,” Evgeny says. “Bad for you.”

“You know what,” Marcus starts, then throws his hands up before sliding off his barstool. Evgeny laughs and follows him, slipping an arm around his waist as they walk out of the restaurant. Marcus is looking something up on his phone. “I just think it’s really stupid that you won’t smoke with me but you’re gonna do coke.”

“I like what I like, you like what you like,” Evgeny says.

“You’re an idiot,” Marcus tells him. They separate as they walk out onto the sidewalk and the blistering heat of Vegas envelops them. Evgeny makes a noise of agreement.

“You love me anyway,” he says.

“Because I am also an idiot,” Marcus says.

They take forever at the dispensary, mostly because Marcus is picky as fuck, but also becasue he decides he’s going to buy - a vape? Evgeny is prepared to give Marcus non stop shit for the rest of the night right until Marcus wraps his lips around it and inhales and - maybe Marcus’s mouth just looks like that? All the time?

Marcus grins at him and blows a smoke ring in Evgeny’s face.

“I forgot you could do that,” Evgeny says, smiling. “There’s a sex store down the street if you want to get really freaky.”

“You doing lines off my dick isn’t freaky enough?” Marcus asks, before inhaling again.

“Oh, you’re gonna let me?” Evgeny asks.

“Babe, I’m gonna be so fucking stoned by then I’m not gonna give a fuck,” Marcus tells him, and Evgeny grins and grabs his hand, dragging him down the sidewalk.

They end up spending even longer in the sex shop than they did in the dispensary, and the clerk has to tell them no fewer than three times to “please, if you could stop doing that in my shop,” when Evgeny is getting a little too handsy, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Marcus’s jeans and kissing him. 

Marcus is an idiot who keeps asking Evgeny about the freakiest looking butt plugs, and won’t stop giggling. Evgeny thinks half of that is just Marcus, embarrassed by walking around a sex shop with Evgeny groping him in public. Some of it is the buzz from the wine and the weed.

They don’t end up buying any of the toys, though Evgeny picks up and puts down one of the plugs several times, waffling back and forth about whether it would be fun to play with, if he’s fucking Marcus, who is one hundred percent not paying attention to him anymore.

“Are you really buying fucking - fucking poppers?” Evgeny asks when he finally finds Marcus at the counter with a selection on the counter.

Marcus turns to him, all big, dark eyes with blown pupils. “Stockholm stupid,” he says, and then smiles. Evgeny, helpless and desperately in love, smiles right back at him.

“Buy more lube,” Evgeny tells him.

“Go hurry and get it,” Marcus says. “He’s already ringing me up.”

Evgeny knows that this clerk is going to be so excited to see them leave, truly, but at least he’s nice and tells them to have a good night - somehow with a straight face. At least until Evgeny blurts out, “oh, we will,” and Marcus tries to cover his mouth while yelling, “noooooo,” and they almost knock over a display, after which the very nice and very tired clerk tells them to get the fuck out of his store.

Marcus can’t stop laughing on the street, both hands over his face. Evgeny grabs his wrists and pulls his hands away, and kisses him even as he’s still laughing.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel and skip the whole stupid club thing,” Evgeny asks. He’s more sober than when he asked at the restaurant, and he still kind of wants to go, but he also wants to take his _very_ high boyfriend back to their hotel room and put his hands all over him.

“I didn’t want to go to the club in the first place,” Marcus tells him, his serious face as he looks at Evgeny incongruous with the flush in his cheeks and how big his pupils are. His hair is a mess and falling around his face, and Evgeny reaches out and pushes it back behind his ears.

“I know,” Evgeny says. “Hotel?”

Marcus nods, and leans in and kisses him, easy this time because he’s no longer laughing. Evgeny thinks he likes both; Marcus when he’s hard to kiss because he’s laughing like an idiot, and Marcus like this, kissing Evgeny because Evgeny’s his boyfriend and that’s a thing they do all the time. All the time, because they’re together now, on the same team, in the same city. Evgeny spends half the summer in Sweden and they do stupid shit like almost getting arrested in Stockholm.

Evgeny gets them an Uber back to their resort.

He leans against the wall while Marcus takes a couple of drags off the vape, standing outside the casino with all the other smokers. “Do you want to go play black jack or anything?” Evgeny asks. He leans against the wall with one leg bent and one foot on the wall, and hopes he looks cool or sexy. Marcus blows a smoke ring in his face.

“I will if you want to,” Marcus says. “I’d rather play poker. Oh! We can go play craps and I’ll unbutton half the buttons on my shirt and just be like, your hot girlfriend that rolls the dice.”

“Yeah you’re my hot girlfriend that rolls the dice,” Evgeny says, and reaches out and tugs Marcus in against him, making him laugh-choke on the vapor in his lungs. He reaches out and pops open two more buttons on Marcus’s shirt.

“Do you think it would be better if I had more chest hair or cleavage?” Marcus asks. He clutches the vape in one hand, and then pushes his pecs together. “You like this?” he asks. “You wanna come on my tits?”

Evgeny snorts so hard it hurts his face and Marcus shoves the vape in his pocket and they head inside the casino. The bags they’re carrying are nondescript enough, and Marcus had consolidated them while they were in the car anyway, just in case they did decide to stop in a bar, or anywhere else on their way back to the hotel room. Evgeny likes that he doesn’t bother buttoning his shirt back up.

The thing about craps is that it’s very complicated. There have been a lot of casino nights when teammates have tried to teach Evgeny how craps works. He’s better at roulette (“Because I’m Russian, see,” he’ll say with a shit-eating grin,) and Marcus likes playing poker, but Marcus’s shirt is unbuttoned halfway to his belly button and he’s high as fuck. Evgeny is drinking martinis and throwing dice and Marcus is laughing. Evgeny loves him, loves this.

He’s got a good buzz by the time they head up to the hotel room. Between the two of them they have quite a few chips, even though Marcus definitely doesn’t know how to bet craps. He just had a hot hand when he was throwing the dice, and they’d bet what everyone was getting excited about.

Marcus throws himself down on the bed and rummages through his bag, pulling out the package of marijuana candy he bought. Evgeny has already kicked off his shoes and is stripping out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor before going to dig through his bag.

“Here,” Marcus says, holding up the bag that has everything they bought in it - the weed, the poppers, the lube. He clicks the piece of candy in his mouth against his teeth. “Do you want any of this?”

“Not right now,” Evgeny says. “You’re gonna be too high to fuck.”

“I am going to be exactly as high as I want to be,” Marcus tells him, and sprawls onto his back on the bed.

Evgeny goes over and climbs onto the bed, kneeling to straddle Marcus’s hips. Marcus looks up at him, his eyes big and dark and his cheeks flushed and when he licks his lips his tongue is stained red. Evgeny reaches down and unbuttons the last few buttons on Marcus’s shirt and pushes it open.

Marcus reaches out, and Evgeny pulls him up and Marcus shrugs his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop back down onto the bed. He rests his hands on Evgeny’s hips, runs his thumbs across Evgeny’s skin. Evgeny kisses him, soft, and he can taste the stupid candy on Marcus’s tongue.

“What flavor is that?” Evgeny asks him.

“Pineapple cherry,” Marcus answers. “It was the only flavor that didn’t seem gross. Well, that wasn’t hybrid or sativa.”

“I hate when you say things like that to me,” Evgeny says. “Take your pants off.”

“You’re sitting on my lap,” Marcus tells him. His fingers move slow, but they’re stroking over Evgeny’s skin, one hand moving to cup around Evgeny’s cock through his underwear. Evgeny wraps his arms around Marcus’s shoulders.

They stay that way for a while, just making out. Evgeny thinks it’s nice, because they haven’t done this for a while, just kissed each other. Except Marcus’s hand keeps moving slowly over the length of his cock, and - well.

“Take your pants off,” Evgeny says again, and pulls back before sliding off the bed. “And let me do lines off your dick.”

“Plural?” Marcus asks. He gets up as well, standing up to wiggle out of his jeans. Evgeny stops to watch him, even though he’s digging through his bag to find where he stashed his coke. “How many are we talking?”

Evgeny flashes him a smile, as Marcus drops his jeans onto the floor. “I don’t know, at least two.”

“That probably should’ve been the first thing you did when you came in,” Marcus says. Evgeny has done a lot of lines off Marcus’s different body parts, but doing one off his dick is new territory. "Instead of sitting on me."

"Oversight," Evgeny says. "Relax and enjoy your candy."

Marcus throws his underwear directly at Evgeny and flops down on the bed, popping a second piece of candy into his mouth. He clicks it around just to fuck with Evgeny, because he knows the sound irritates him. 

Evgeny loves him so much. They should get married while they're in Vegas.

“Are you going to do them one at a time?” Marcus asks, propping himself up on a pillow, tucking one arm behind his head and watching Evgeny. “You could do a bunch of little short ones across the width.”

Evgeny stops and stares at him when he realizes what Marcus is talking about. Marcus keeps going. “Or you could do one really long one,” he says, motioning through the air and making it sound like his dick is about four feet long - which it’s not. Evgeny’s looking at it, soft, resting against Marcus’s stomach, curved just a little bit, and bigger when he’s fully hard, sure - but.

“I don’t think you can get two next to each other,” Marcus continues, a little shit. “Unless you want to go snorting through my pubes like a truffle pig.”

“Oh KAY,” Evgeny yells at him, because sometimes he gets what he deserves, and he’s absolutely getting what he deserves right now. “I will stuff your underwear in your mouth.”

Marcus clicks his candy against his teeth. “You _won’t_,” he says, knowing an empty threat when he hears one. “I’ll safeword you.”

“No safewords with gags in!” Evgeny says.

“This is no longer safe, sane, or consensual,” Marcus tells him, trying to put on a serious face.

“Okay, first of all,” Evgeny says, and climbs up on the bed. “Only one of those things was true to start with.”

Marcus opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and shrugs. Evgeny makes himself comfortable sitting next to Marcus’s hips, and Marcus closes his eyes once Evgeny has his hands on Marcus’s dick, holding Marcus still while he gets his coke ready.

“Think unhappy thoughts,” Evgeny tells Marcus, and Marcus laughs. “You know, losing in Game Sevens. Losing to Pittsburgh. Making out with Phil.”

Marcus laughs again, his stomach going taut and his body moving.

“No, don’t _move_,” Evgeny says.

“Then stop making me laugh,” Marcus says.

“I never want to do that,” Evgeny says. That makes Marcus go quiet, and Evgeny knows that they’ll talk about it later, just like he wants to bring up eloping in Vegas and not as a joke, but he wants to do it when they’re both sober. Not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe over brunch.

He snorts coke off Marcus’s dick and thinks about asking Marcus to marry him because Marcus laughs at him when they’re getting high in a bed in a hotel suite in Las Vegas, and because Marcus clicks candy against his teeth specifically to annoy Evgeny. Because, maybe, Evgeny has loved Marcus since they day they met when Evgeny came to the States in 2014 and their relationship has survived trades and scandals and now they’re back together and they’ve won a Cup and - 

“Are you doing another line or are you just gonna sit there and hold my dick?” Marcus asks him, breaking into his thoughts. “Because this is pretty weird.”

Evgeny starts laughing. He’s never felt about anyone the way he feels about Marcus, and that’s not the alcohol or the drugs talking. He does a second line, then gets up off the bed, tossing his stuff on the table and shedding his underwear before sprawling out on the bed next to Marcus.

“Hi,” Marcus says.

“Hi,” Evgeny says, reaching out and tangling his fingers in Marcus’s hair and kissing him. He still tastes like the stupid candies and he wraps an arm around Evgeny’s waist.

There’s a lull where nothing’s hit Evgeny’s system yet, and Marcus is riding a lazy high and he’s happy to press himself and his half-hard dick against Evgeny and let Evgeny push his knee between Marcus’s thighs. Evgeny likes Marcus loose-limbed and his kisses lazy, likes his hair still too long from the playoff run and his beard too thick on his neck and not at all on his face and Evgeny wants to nuzzle aggressively through it. He doesn’t move, just keeps kissing Marcus until Marcus slowly starts to grind against him, just to get more friction against his dick.

“You want me to fuck you?” Evgeny whispers to him, and Marcus digs his fingers into the muscle of Evgeny’s back.

“Yeah,” he says, openmouthed and breathless. “Come on.”

Evgeny reaches across the mattress to fumble in the shopping bag for the bottle of lube they bought, which neither of them had the foresight to open. Marcus lays on his back and watches Evgeny as he gets the safety seal off the bottle, laughing when he struggles. Evgeny retaliates by throwing one of the little popper bottles at Marcus. He underestimates Marcus’s reflexes, because Marcus catches it before it hits him in the face.

It’s both good and bad, because Evgeny would probably have felt bad if he’d hit Marcus in the face. But at the same time, it wouldn’t have hurt, and also it was exactly where he was aiming. The snap of the bottle opening is loud in the room, and Evgeny is still struggling with the goddamned seal on the lube bottle.

“This is so sexy,” Marcus says, taking a deep inhale off the bottle and making a face, wrinkling his nose. “Just, you know, can’t get the bottle of lube open.”

“You want me to fuck you without it?” Evgeny asks.

“Maybe if you spit enough,” Marcus says.

“Dude,” Evgeny says, making a disgusted face.

“Open the fuckin bottle,” Marcus says, taking another whiff and closing the little bottle and tossing it on the bed.

It takes Evgeny a few more seconds but he does get the lube open and moves to kneel between Marcus’s thighs, slicking up his fingers before pushing in.

“God, I remember this,” Evgeny murmurs before leaning down and pressing his mouth to Marcus’s. Marcus pulls his knees up to make it easy. “You were so good for me in Stockholm.”

“I know,” Marcus says. “God - it’s so - “ He breaks off when Evgeny pushes in the second finger. He bends his fingers and twists, knowing exactly what to do to make Marcus yelp and buck his hips up. Good thing they have a suite and it’s unlikely their neighbors will hear them. If their neighbors are even in their room, since it’s Vegas and only around two in the morning.

Evgeny likes foreplay, because he likes teasing Marcus until he’s squirming and begging. But he knows that poppers have a pathetic longevity, and once the coke hits his system he wants to pound Marcus into the mattress, anyway. Teasing is for long weekends and lazy Sunday mornings in the offseason, not for Stockholm stupid or Cup celebrations or doing drugs in Las Vegas.

“Sit up,” Evgeny orders, and reaches out, grabbing Marcus by both wrists and pulling, the fingers on one hand slick around Marcus’s wrist. Marcus comes to him easily, his hair falling around his face. He raises himself up onto his knees just enough that Evgeny can line himself up and guide Marcus back down.

They’re still for a moment, foreheads pressed together, Marcus’s stupid too-long hair tickling Evgeny’s face and his cock trapped between their stomachs.

“Come on,” Evgeny says. “Do some work for once.” Marcus laughs at him, breathless, but lets Evgeny set the pace, guiding Marcus’s hips.

Evgeny fucks up into him until he can feel Marcus’s legs shaking with the effort of holding himself upright like this, lifting himself up to move, to drop himself back down onto Evgeny’s cock. Evgeny can feel the come leaking out of Marcus’s cock, smearing across their stomachs as they fuck.

“Just - please,” Marcus says.

It’s harder for Evgeny to come when he’s high like this, but at the same time he has the stamina to keep fucking until he does, even as he reaches between them to jerk Marcus off, wrapping the other arm tight around Marcus's waist to keep him upright. Marcus lowers his head down against Evgeny’s shoulder, biting down as he comes in Evgeny’s hand, making Evgeny yelp.

“Fuck,” Evgeny says, because it hurts, but it also makes him feel like his entire body is on fire, like he wants Marcus to do it again, to keep biting him, to leave marks all over him.

He takes hold of Marcus’s wrists gently, leaning them forward to put Marcus on his back on the mattress again. Marcus's hair is stuck to his sweaty face, and now he’s got come smeared on one wrist along with lube. It’s smeared on both of their stomachs, too.

“Remember when I told you you could come on my tits?” Marcus asks, reaching one hand up to push his hair back off his face.

“Can I fuck your mouth instead?” Evgeny asks, and Marcus makes some kind of noise that gets strangled in his throat, a groan or a moan, but he nods his head anyway.

It ends with Evgeny kneeling over him, gripping the headboard as he thrusts his cock into Marcus’s mouth, down his throat. And like, it’s not the best head Evgeny’s ever gotten, because Marcus is being pretty fucking lazy about it, sprawled on the bed and letting Evgeny fuck his mouth until he’s about to come.

“Let me come on your face,” Evgeny says, even though he’s already pulling out.

“Tits,” Marcus says, his voice a little hoarse. Well, at least Evgeny tried. Marcus hates facials.

He jerks himself off, hard and fast until he comes across Marcus’s chest. It’s an accident that some of it splatters up to Marcus’s chin. He collapses on the bed next to Marcus, and Marcus wipes at his beard.

“Asshole,” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. He raises a hand and swipes at his beard, which mostly grinds the come in deeper.

He licks his hand just to fuck with Evgeny.

“You’re a nightmare,” Evgeny tells him, then leans over and kisses him. They’re both a mess and Marcus is half hard again. He slides the hand he just licked into Evgeny’s hair, making Evgeny squirm against him and try and get away.

Evgeny relaxes after a moment, tangles their legs together and strokes his fingers through Marcus’s hair. He can feel when Marcus starts to doze off, so he stops running his fingers through Marcus’s hair to kiss him.

“Are you going to sleep,” Evgeny asks him.

“Don’t know,” Marcus murmurs, even though it’s pretty clear that he is, in fact, going to sleep.

“Come get in the bath with me. You’re fucking disgusting,” Evgeny says.

“You got come all over me,” Marcus says. He rubs a thumb along Evgeny’s jawline, along the beard there, grown out and red in the way Evgeny’s hair never is.

“Some of it’s yours,” Evgeny says. He pushes himself up and rolls off the bed, walking out of the room and into the bathroom. There’s a big stupid bathtub in their suite, and it would be almost like sinking into a hot tub, but without the jets. But also they could be naked.

Marcus hasn’t moved when Evgeny walks back into the bedroom, and Evgeny leans down and kisses him. “Come on,” he says. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, Marcus allows himself to be pulled up and dragged into the bathroom. He grabs a washcloth off the counter and settles between Evgeny’s thighs, leaning his back against Evgeny’s chest. Evgeny loops an arm around Marcus as he scrubs at his beard, then swipes absently at his chest.

In the grand scheme of things, they don’t really fit as well as a normal couple would, perhaps, and to even remotely cram themselves into the tub Marcus has to prop his legs up on the side. It’s a little sweaty and gross, a little uncomfortable, but it’s nice. A lull in the whirlwind that’s just the two of them in a way the drive to Vegas hadn’t been, or falling asleep post-fuck.

“Marc,” Evgeny says after a long time, when the silence stretches so long that it starts to make him uncomfortable. Evgeny doesn’t like the quiet, not really. He likes to have music, television, talking. Noise. Not the sound of Marcus’s breathing and his own and the sound of water any time one of them moves.

“Mmm,” Marcus says, and shifts slightly, moving his hand down to rest against Evgeny’s thigh.

“You know what I thought of?” Evgeny asks.

“What?” Marcus asks.

“We could get married,” Evgeny says. “Like go to an Elvis and just.”

“Okay,” Marcus says.

“Okay?” Evgeny asks. “Really?”

“We’ve been dating for ten years,” Marcus says. “And maybe we’re both high right now, and maybe I’m thinking about touching your dick, but I think - I think it’s an idea. I don’t think it’s a stupid one. Probably not the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What’s the best idea I’ve ever had?” Evgeny asks.

Marcus pushes himself to sit up, and turns to look at Evgeny. “I don’t know,” he says, and he’s serious. Neither of them are sober, but neither of them are as high as they’ve been. Of the two of them, Marcus is probably more high. “Is it cheesy if I say loving me?”

“Oh, fucking absolutely,” Evgeny says.

“Listen,” Marcus says. He rubs a hand over his face, then back through his hair. “I’m high as fuck right now, I’m sorry. But listen.” Evgeny coughs, because he’s trying to cover up the laugh that’s threatening to escape, because Marcus is trying to be Serious, capital S. “You could have fucked off and done anything you wanted after I got traded. You could’ve - you’re hot, you make a lot of money, you can have anyone.”

“But I wanted you,” Evgeny says, still leaned back against the back of the tub. He shifts to move both of his legs to one side, so Marcus isn’t sitting between them anymore.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Marcus says. He’s so serious and earnest and Evgeny loves him so much. “You could’ve done whatever you wanted. And you won a Cup! You won a Cup without me, after I was gone, and you could have fucked literally anyone and you _Facetimed me from a club bathroom because you missed me_.”

Evgeny can feel his face getting hot.

“You signed in Arizona because I got traded here,” Marcus says.

“I’m an idiot,” Evgeny says.

“So am I,” Marcus says. “So sticking with this is the best idea we’ve ever had. Us together.”

“Can we have an Elvis wedding?” Evgeny says.

Marcus laughs and leans forward and kisses him. “Whatever you want,” he says. “I’m getting in the shower and then I’m going to bed.”

Evgeny slaps him on the ass as he gets out of the tub. It echoes in the bathroom. “Hey,” Evgeny says as Marcus turns on the shower, stopping him from getting in.

“What?” Marcus asks.

“Does this count as Stockholm stupid?” Evgeny asks.

“No,” Marcus says, shaking his head. “Now we’re gonna decide whether things are gonna get Stockholm stupid or Vegas stupid.”

Evgeny laughs and Marcus closes the shower door behind himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on twitter @notedgoon

**Author's Note:**

> you can feel free to tell me how much you hate me now at @notedgoon. it is what it fuckin' is, dudes. sorry this is what i fixated on instead of writing my all caps exchange.


End file.
